Some Buried Caesar
by MIZZOU
Summary: What happens when the Brotherhood raises an infant? A more believable approach to how the Lone Wanderer became so damn awesome. This doesn't follow the main storyline, but it may have some of the same aspects. It'll be better than this summary suggests.
1. Genesis

Carter stumbled, no longer having a grasp on which direction he was headed. He _knew_ he wasn't ready to leave Megaton, wasn't ready to brave the wastes. He had been walking for days, and hadn't had any food or water. He wouldn't be able to walk for much longer.

Watching the feeble attempt from afar, an older man could recognize Carter for an ex vault dweller immediately. He shook his head, he'd never wear one of those jumpsuits, it caught people's attention, just like it was catching his now. That's not what you want in the Wasteland, you want to be as invisible as possible. Wearing that outfit was like a big "I'm a helpless little virgin, _rape me_!" to all the paraphiliacs of the Wastes.

It wasn't just the jumpsuit that advertised the kid's clean hands. The way he held himself was a dead giveaway. People in the Wasteland always, _always_ have closed body language, words were not needed to tell people to stay away. The vault dweller's body did not display any warnings, and he didn't seem worried about anything but his destination. He didn't glance around to make sure no one was around, he wasn't on lookout at all for any foreign person or object to scavenge.

The man couldn't help himself, he approached Carter, who didn't even notice him coming.

"Need help?" his simple question startling the kid.

"What? Y-yes. I need food, water... please." Carter answered, his voice cracking.

The stranger produced a half-full bottle of water, and something wrapped up in cloth.

_As always, your pity for the destitute will be your downfall. I'm embarrassed to have been your mentor, did you not listen to a word I said?_

That was Clark, who was now dead. Even in death, he would never leave the poor man alone, he'd continue to criticise. Though, it was more of an advantage than a burden, this voice had counseled him and kept him alive ever since he'd had it. He would feel even lonelier if it went away.

The vaultie looked at him questioningly, suspiciously, and thankfully, all at the same time. It only took a nod for him to decide it was alright to drink the water, and he unwrapped the cloth. It revealed some unidentifiable dry pieces of meat.

"Brahmin jerky." the donor clarified.

Carter knew what a Brahmin was, and he wasn't sure it was safe to eat, but he didn't care. He had to put something in that stomach before it tried eating itself. He didn't eat it all, not wanting to anger this generous man. However, the man indicated that he should finish, and he didn't have to be told twice. He felt much better with food in his stomach.

"What are you doing here?" the man asked him bluntly once he had finished. For the first time, he gazed upon the man, taking in his appearance.

How hadn't he noticed the distinct features of this man before? Once you caught a good glimpse of his face, you were ensnared by the intricacies. Just looking at it gave you that feeling, that this man had experiences, he had _lived_. Perhaps not a happy, funloving life, but his face told you stories. Wrinkles had began to form prematurely, and Carter found himself guessing what emotion had caused each crevice. Did those crows' feet come from his baby daughter? Are those frown lines from being in so many stressful, high-pressure situations, or losing so many companions? How many times must he have been surprised by an enemy to have those deep forehead lines? It was rude to stare, but Carter couldn't help himself, he was captivated. He wanted to reach out a hand, and see how cold and rough it was to the touch. There were scars, but Carter had seen a lot of people with scars on their faces. In the vault, the scars only came from digging too much at a zit, but there were many Wastelanders with maimed faces. The scars weren't what Carter noticed next, it was the eyes. They watched him serenely, but with an intensity that made Carter feel as if he had said something quite extraordinary. They didn't miss a thing, Carter felt like this man could see right through him, and read him like a book.

"Answer me, boy." the man said with surprising sharpness. He noticed Carter staring, as everyone does, and became impatient.

Carter snapped out of his daze, "I'm... looking for the Citadel..."

"For what purpose?"

"I want to become a Knight."

The crease of those forehead lines deepened significantly, the man certainly didn't expect him to say _that._ He was going in the wrong direction of the Citadel, but the man didn't tell him this yet. "Do you have any idea what Knights do, boy?"

"They protect the Wasteland, right? Try to make it better. Like the vaults!"

Then, it was the frown lines that became more prominent. "We don't want the Wasteland like those damn vaults. You don't want to go to the Citadel, they'll laugh in your damn face. How long have you been out of the vault?"

"A week..."

The man laughed, but since it was not a real laugh, Carter didn't see the crows' feet.

_You should have left him, you wasted your food on him. _Clark's voice chastised, _He's a dead man walking anyways._

"Turn back to Megaton." he had only guessed the kid was from Megaton. It was the direction he was coming from.

"No." Carter said with more defiance than he had meant.

"What did you say, boy?" the man's face showing a faint sign of anger. People didn't disobey him very often.

"I can't... I have to do this!" Carter said with a rising voice, he _didn't _like people trying to stop him.

Carter felt himself being studied by the man, hard. It made him feel uncomfortable, but he stood still. He didn't know if this was a good, or bad thing.

The man looked at Carter, feeling nostalgia. He saw so much of his old self in this mere boy, it was unnerving. That tenacious look in his eye, so much like his own when he was young. Once he saw this, he knew the boy was going to the Citadel, no matter what.

And he would take him.

"I'm going to the Citadel." the man told him.

"Can I come with you?" Carter asked hopefully. He received a short nod, and hurried to catch up with his new travel partner.

"I'm Carter Brady," he introduced, wondering if he should hold his hand out, but decided against it.

"Emmett Adams," the man answered back. He didn't mean to say that, he meant to keep quiet, but he had just blurted it.

"Why are you going to the Citadel?" Carter asked curiously.

"I'm running low on ammo, and have a few things that need to be repaired."

"The Citadel just replenishes your stuff like that?!" Carter was amazed, he thought that the man meant the Brotherhood of Steel just gives out free ammo.

Emmett just responded with a brusque nod.

"Not much of a talker, are you?"

Emmett made a throaty sound that sounded like a growl mixed with a sigh, signalling for Carter to shut up. He didn't ask any more questions.

Traveling with the man made him notice his walk. His left leg was crippled, making him limp. It was a dignified stagger, though, it told you that he still wasn't weak, that you still didn't want to fuck with this guy. Even so, Carter wondered how fast he could still run.

It wasn't long until Carter felt weak again, he still hadn't had enough to eat. His stomach loudly demanded that something be put in it, but Emmett didn't hear it with his horribly abused ears. Emmett had figured that Carter was still starving, but the Citadel was close.

-------

Carter had made it to the Citadel, surprised by how close he was. When he was walking, he had been a little off direction, though. Without Emmett, he may not have made it. He'd put in a good word for the man if he ever got a chance.

Carter was a little dismayed by the look of the Citadel. Sure, it was better than most buildings out here, but it still wasn't beautiful by any means. His spirits were sprung up again when he saw his first Knight, all decked out in Power Armor. He had never seen such a fiercesome looking person, you had to be out of your mind to attack a guy in that suit. Carter gaped at the Knight, who stared at Emmett.

"Hail..." the Knight said meekly, recognizing the great man before him. Carter couldn't believe that a guy who looked so powerful would speak so humbly. Was Emmett important or something?

Emmett strode passed them, and into the Citadel, his companion close behind. There were curious looks cast their way, but Emmett walked quickly, not giving Carter much time to stare back. They entered a building and followed the signs that read "Mess Hall". Once they were in the cafeteria, Emmett pulled open a refrigerator and handed Carter some more meat and water, then got some himself. Carter thanked him, and sat, not knowing if he was supposed to just pick it up and bite it or what. Was meat finger food out here? When Emmett just took it and sunk his teeth in, Carter guessed it was. In the Vault they used silverware, but he always thought eating like this was more fun. He took a swig of his water, noticing it had a weird taste; it was more metallic, but he drank it all anyways. After eating it all, Carter was still hungry, but didn't complain.

Carter cleared his throat, "Can I speak with someone about joining?"

Emmett shook his head, that pseudo-smile returning to his lips, "Being a Knight isn't a fairytale life. It's a shit one. You fight for ungrateful bastards who will turn around and shoot your head off for a couple caps. You have to be able to carry out a mission that you know you won't live through without hesitation. Joining the Brotherhood is signing off your life to the Elder. The training is more grueling than you could ever imagine, and more Initiates die than Knights, Paladins, and Scribes put together. The Brotherhood only trains the best, and only accepts perfection. I suggest you crawl back into that hole of yours, and leave the hard work for the ones who can handle it. What makes you think you can just waltz in here after living in a Vault your entire life?"

Carter didn't think that the man would be so negative, he thought he had the man's support. But he knew that the question wasn't rhetorical, if there was any chance of him becoming a Knight, he'd have to give an answer. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and when they opened again they were adamant with resolve.

"I know, I'm from a Vault, so you think I'm worthless. But weren't we all at one point? Even you have been weak at one time, and now look at you. It's not too late in the game, I can do it, I can grow. I'll do whatever is necessary, I'll work every single day of my life, no matter how vigorous that work is." Carter said with such fervor, it was hard for even Emmett to challenge him.

"Why?"

Carter stopped, he didn't know if his reason would be enough for the man, but he had to try.

"In my Vault, we never _did _anything. We sat in our comfortable burrow and lived a carefree life of luxury and convenience. I thought I was satisfied, and happy. But then, during class, we learned about history. About the great things people have done, ambitious people, trying to make a change. Nothing had sounded better than that, to leave a mark on the world. To _touch _it, and leave the loops of my fingerprint. Because, once it's all over and done, what matters more than what you've left behind? The people of my Vault couldn't care less about accomplishment, they're content with leaving a rotten corpse behind. Instead, I decided to make a difference, to matter. I started asking for more books on history, and I'd study about all of the powerful men and women in the world, so I could have a better understanding on how to be like them. A man in my Vault named Thomas saw me studying, and we talked. During that conversation, we had learned a lot about each other, and discovered that both of us were craving more, we were hungry for it. He helped me escape the Vault, and brought me to Megaton. He eventually left m-"

Emmett eyebrows had narrowed and he snapped at Carter, "I didn't ask you to tell me your life story."

"Oh... I'm sorry."

Emmett gave him another look, like he was analyzing the young boy. Carter felt a chill, once again feeling like the man was sizing him up, it made him feel nervous.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Uh, fifteen."

Emmett took a deep breath. This would be a lot of work. But he actually approved of the boy's motives, he didn't have the soft, tenderhearted reasons that most people did. He wanted to be great, and Emmett would grant his wish.

"Elder Bronn won't take you so young, but I will."

"What?"

"If you truly want to become a distinguished figure in the Brotherhood, you'll need to learn from me."

"Are you some kind of instructor?" Carter asked.

"No."

"Then who are you?"

"That's quite a story." but Emmett had been planning on telling him anyways.

"I've got time."

-------

There's chapter one for ya. I know that it doesn't seem like the description really goes with the story, but there just wasn't enough room to fit everything. Now, if you haven't guessed, we're going to go through Emmett's life, and we won't be seeing Carter again for quite some time.

There may be a couple things you're confused on, relating to the setting, and who this Elder Bronn is, but don't worry. It'll all be explained.

I apologize for any grammar issues, I do this on WordPad so there's nothing that tells me when I make those errors. Grammar has never been my forte, either. I also apologize to everyone who reads my other stories for me not updating in forever, and then starting another multichaptered fiction. I'll get to them _someday._

Please, tell me what you thought of this. I'm craving some constructive criticism.


	2. Some Scientist

Elder Lyons looked out the window of his office and couldn't help but smile at the young boy outside, running laps around the Citadel. Though he was only a child, the old man expected a great deal out of him. Every day he was trained by the Brotherhood's finest, so he would be forged into the perfect soldier. He was worked hard, but he always had a good attitude. They had made him enamored with the idea that he would one day become the Brotherhood's greatest Paladin, maybe even Elder, and the backbreaking labor was all he knew.

One could say that it was cruel, to do such a thing to a mere child, and Lyons couldn't blame them. The fact that they were taking away the joys of being young didn't _please_ the Elder, but it was necessary. Besides, the child owed them his life, he had been rescued by a Brotherhood squad when he was an infant. His family had fallen victim to a raid, and the two Knights who found him didn't have the heart to leave him. So, they brought him to the Citadel.

_And we're sculpting him into a fine young man._ Elder Lyons thought with immense pride.

-----------

Emmett's entire life revolved around the Brotherhood. He was allowed to go on short excursions with a team of Knights once in a while, to get a feel for what his future would be like, but that was the only time he'd ever leave the Citadel. Most of his waking hours were spent training with his mentor, Clark, or in the laboratory with scribes, which was something like his school. He'd learn things that were considered relevant to his purpose, they even allowed him to learn about history. Scribe Rothchild was his teacher some of the time, though the scribe was often busy. Rothchild was much more open than any of his other teachers, Emmett felt comfortable around him, an odd feeling for the young man.

"Why doesn't everyone in the Brotherhood train as much as I do, Scribe Rothchild?" Emmett asked one day.

The Scribe looked at him and patted his head, "Because of you, dear boy. You work so hard, so that they don't have to."

"But, if everyone trained just like me, wouldn't we be unstoppable?" the scribe couldn't help but smile at the wonder in the boy's eyes.

"Perhaps, but I don't think everyone here is dedicated enough for that. You may be the only one who's willing to sacrifice their life for the cause. Besides, you're... special."

"I'm not sacrificing anything, and I'm not special. I'm just another soldier for Elder Lyons."

Rothchild's eyes suddenly changed from amused to upset. "No! Don't say such things! You have to realize that you're a prized asset, born for remarkable achievements, not an ordinary everyman! That you're an individual, not a facsimile of the Knight that stands beside you. You're not Elder Lyon's tool, you have a mind of your own. You must remember to always, _always_ask questions, but not aloud. Think for yourself, or you may end up hurting the world more than helping it, you understand? And most importantly, you must know how to say 'Sir! No sir!' if absolutely necessary." the Scribe clasped Emmett's shoulders and stared deep into his eyes. The intensity of Rothchild's short speech made it a thing Emmett never forgot.

Rothchild and Elder Lyons had always been on opposite ends of each other. Both were good men with good intentions, but with different ideas. Elder Lyons valued soldiers who would do whatever he commanded without question, he wanted solid, unmoving cattle. Scribe Rothchild preferred integrity and men with substance. Their conflicting views often confused Emmett. He held both of the men in high regard, but Lyons was always the man he tried hardest to please. Emmett rarely had a chance to speak with Lyons, but every time he did, he felt a renewed zeal to become remarkable.

Perhaps it was Scribe Rothchild who had planted that seed in Emmett, the one that had grown in him for years, the seed that gave him the one thing he wished he never had, _compassion_. He despised it, not only would it limit him, but it would bring him more grief. He was supposed to be emotionless instrument used to repair the world, not a human.

-----------

Today, Emmett was eighteen, and considered a full man. He went to meet his best, and practically only friend, Sarah Lyons in the cafeteria after his morning run, and wasn't surprised to see her waiting on him.

She didn't tell him Happy Birthday, or even mention it. He thought she forgot, but it didn't particularly bother him. Birthdays had never been big for him, why should the eighteenth one meen anything more?

He didn't think as his legs brought him to the training yard, awaiting Clark. When Elder Lyons appeared instead, Emmett gave the man a firm salute and wished he had remembered to shave.

"Hello, Emmett." Elder Lyons called, "I'm sure you know what today is."

"Yes, sir!"

"You're eighteen years of age, it's your first day of adulthood. A rather significant day, my prodigy has become a man." the way Lyons said _my _prodigy made Emmett want to beam, but he knew it would make him seem childish.

"So, we've gotten you a gift. It's been something that our scribes have worked on for some time. Here." Elder Lyons said, passing a bundle wrapped in cloth to Emmett, "Unravel it."

Emmett obeyed, once the object was naked, he was a little confused, but it did not show on his face. He would be grateful with any gift.

"It's called a Pip-Boy," Lyons told him, knowing that his look of gratitude was a mask. "It's a very useful little device we've recently acquired from the Vaults, and I think it's going to help you out quite a bit. May even save your life a few times."

"What's its purpose?" Emmett asked, trying not to offend anyone.

"It has a lot of uses. There's a map of all the recorded points of interest in the Wasteland, an internal Geiger counter, and a radio that you can contact us on. There's also something called V.A.T.S., Vault-Tec Assisted Targeting System. It's unbelievable technology, I'll leave it to the scribes to explain it to you."

"All of that in this small bracelet?" Emmett asked excitedly, forgetting who he was talking to for a moment, "When will everyone receive one?"

"It could take a while figuring out how to reprogram them, but we do have more to work with." Elder Lyons told him, "This however, is not your only present. As an adult, it's now your duty to start really contributing to the Brotherhood. You'll be given a _real_ task, one that will take a few days, and one that will perhaps even be crucial for us. You'll still be safeguarded, of course, but you must remember that this is not a picnic. You're not only going to go out looking for a small band of Super Mutants, you're going to see much of the Wasteland. Your squad will consist of Paladin Clark, Knight Dirk, Knight Lyons, Knight Rhett, and Paladin Cecil."

"Yes, sir!" Emmett exclaimed with so much animation, the Elder had difficulty with stifling a smile.

"That's it. Report to Paladin Clark, he will lead the squad, and will brief you on your objectives. Oh, and Emmett?"

"Sir?"

"Happy Birthday." the Elder had an idea of how much this meant to Emmett.

"Thank you, sir!" Emmett turned to run off, and as soon as his back faced his Elder, he had a wide grin on his face. His day just went from ordinary to extraordinary.

--------

Clark wasn't in half as good of a mood as Emmett was in, and he didn't even acknowledge the fact that Emmett was eighteen. He couldn't have cared less. All he cared about was getting the job done, and being efficient about it. That's all he ever cared about.

"Listen, you maggots, and listen good. Cecil and I are the men in charge, you disobey a direct order from either one of us, your ass is _grass_. Some of you are Knights, but that doesn't make you special. You're not tough shit just 'cause you've got the rank. Keep that in mind."

Paladin Cecil spoke up, with a less gruff, but still authoritative voice, "We're headed for the GNR outpost, to pick up some scientist, and escort him to Rivet City. Our path is crawling with muties, so don't expect it to be smooth sailing. For most of you, this is one of your first missions, and it won't be any small task. This is a high priority objection." Cecil said, maybe exaggerating a bit, "This man means a lot to Elder Lyons, so _keep him alive._"

It wasn't much of a briefing, but the whole mission was a bit of a halfbaked plan to get this scientist out of the very dangerous GNR outpost ASAP. Besides, nothing in such a chaotic world was particularly organized.

"Alright, ladies, do whatever you need to do before the mission, and get it done fast. Adams," Clark called, "I believe you have some business with the scribes. Get to it."

"Sir! Yes, sir!" everyone under the rank of Paladin chorused.

Emmett made his way to the laboratory, counting on someone to recognize him and help him out. It was time to get that Pip-Boy thing on his wrist. Once Scribe Peabody spotted him, he quickly approached.

"Emmett! Just who I wanted to see. I've been _dying_ to get that Pip-Boy into action. Follow me, this could be some touchy work." the scribe lead him into an isolated room with a workbench.

"Not to be rude, sir, but if you could do this with all possible haste, without damaging any form of quality, it'd be appreciated." Emmett requested.

"Yes, yes. But I make no promises, it may not seem it, but there are many complexities in this process. I certainly hope you don't mind me slicing your arm a bit." Peabody had taken his arm onto the bench and was fiddling with the Pip-Boy, to get it open.

"I'm sure it will be worthwhile."

"Indeed it will. No more talking, I need to concentrate."

Emmett said no more, and the scribe began his "complicated work". While he was working on Emmett's Pip-Boy, he kept himself busy by explaining V.A.T.S..

_So much for concentration, _Emmett thought.

"There is a needle hidden inside the thick wall of the Pip-Boy. That's the catalyst. What V.A.T.S. does, is make things seem as if they're going in slow motion. They're not really, you're simply incredibly focused on them. You'll find that, while in V.A.T.S. mode, you can't very well think of anything but your target. You're able to move faster, due to the fact that your reaction time just shortened significally. It won't make you lightning quick, but you will notice a difference. This may seem far-fetched, but I'm in no way exaggerating. What happens is, through that needle, something called 'amphetamine' is pumped through your bloodstream. This gives you a sort of high, and you _will_ feel like you're on top of the world, but it will also be temporary. Once it wears off, you'll be drowsy, and it will have the exact opposite effect. Use this sparingly, however, not only can you run out in no time, but it is highly addictive. This amphetamine is exceptionally strong, so don't be fooled by the small amount it injects."

"Wow, that's... amazing. To think, all of that happens when I, what, press a button?"

"That's it. It's a small one, and a bit hard to press, but it's well worth the action. Once you press it, the needle shoots into your veins and you're one deadly soldier. I've just inserted the cartridge of amphetamine into the Pip-Boy, we're ready to put her on!"

Once the accessory was wrapped around Emmett's wrist, he started to tinker with it.

"I'd teach you how to use it properly, but since you're short on time, I'd better not. I know how Paladin Clark can be. You'll have to figure it out on your own, it shouldn't be too hard, you're smart enough, I'm sure."

"Thank you, Scribe." Emmett called before running off.

He headed straight to the Equipment Room with an excited anticipation, he would get to wear one of those sleek Power Armor suits. He'd worn one before to get acclimated to the feel of them, but he still couldn't get over just how damn cool they looked, and how powerful he felt with one on. The other soldiers were already suited up, so Emmett knew he'd have to hurry. Luckily, Sarah was there, and ready to lend a hand. They were a close pair, even though Sarah's father was protective of both of them, and worried that allowing a blooming relationship between the two could prove to be a fatal mistake.

They eventually fit the armor onto Emmett, and not a moment later did Paladin Clark strut into the room with that dauntless demeanor that even Elder Lyons envied. Permanent scowl still engraved into his face, he stared at them, searching for anything missing or a flaw.

"Let's move." was all he said.

They had nearly made it out of the Citadel when suddenly Scribe Rothchild called Emmett's name. They stopped, although it agitated Clark, because Rothchild outranked all of them. That didn't stop Clark from fixing an impatient look on his superior. Rothchild took Emmett to the side a bit, to have an individual conversation.

"Emmett, I know that while you're out there you will witness terrible things. Things that you are not ready for, but things you will have to see. And I'm afraid my words cannot prepare you for these. So all I ask of you, boy, is that in the name of the greatness given to you, do not sacrifice this world to those who are its worst. In the name of the morals that have been instilled in you, do not let your perception of man be despoiled by the evil, the inane, the cretinous, and by those who have no place in our world. Do forget that man's legitimate posture is upright and proud, unlike these savage subhumans who crawl on all fours. Play the man, and keep your fire burning bright, even when you've encountered the most diabolic animal imaginable. Do not let the hero in your heart crumble, in lonely frustration for this seemingly unreachable goal you have. The world you thirst for can be obtained, it exists, it's real, it's _yours_."

Emmett could think of nothing to say, the scholar's monologue had moved him. All he could manage was an awestruck nod for the Scribe, and he was dismissed with a warm, caring smile, something he did not receive very often.

The entire journey to the outpost, Emmett could think of nothing more than Rothchild's words. At first, he didn't fully comprehend them, but they were starting to sink in. He understood the old man's concern, and he would not forget it.

* * *

There you are, everyone. It's been a while since I've visited this site, but I'm planning on making up for lost time. Expect more frequent updates.

Twenty points to whoever got the "Play the man" and "burning bright" allusions in the third to last paragraph.

Review, praise, criticize, or flame me as you see fit.


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